


Canada is Not Having a Very Good Week

by orphan_account



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2221620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matthew usually isn't so accident prone. But he's not having his best week. And when he hurts something that you kinda need to figure things out, like a head, he'll have to search for clues to figure out what happened.</p><p>Or maybe he just won't care.</p><p>(Call it crack, if you want).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue

"Oh, look. The lake has frozen over."  
"Yeah. It's the winter, dude," Alfred grinned in anticipation of his own joke, "were you expecting something else?"  
Matthew didn't know how to respond, like on most days.  
"And, you know, it's really not that important," Alfred continued, completely changing his mood, "so let's get the hell outta here!"  
You do not understand my sense of humour, brother.

The two crossed over to the front door, where Alfred slammed the door open, startling his brother at the noise. If Alfred breaks one more of my doors by slamming the open and shut, just one more time, I'll have to do something to get him to finally stop "accidentally" ruining my things and not realizing or noticing his mistake! Canada planned out his own small manifesto to recite the next time his brother broke something of his, especially another house door.  
"Don't break it, please. I like this one," Matthew managed.  
"Oh, shi-"  
"Oh look, some black ice. Careful, eh? I'll go first."  
Alfred had been holding onto the railing leading down from the door, connected to the now-icy, mighty, difficult to overcome, 3 steps between the doorway and the ground. Slipping before the first step, he had leaned back and grabbed at the doorway, some paint chipping off and lodging under a few fingernails. Matthew nudged him to enter once more once his brother regained his footing.  
"I put the salt just outside. It's probably just resting on the side of the stairs now," he explained to Alfred, who had taken off his shoe and double socks already and started staring at his heel.  
Matthew went down the stairs and retrieved the salt with ease. He climbed back up, opened the bag, and started to spread the contents. Alfred, still looking at his newly bruised heel and leaning on the wide-open door, groaned in annoyance.  
"Dude, where's you First-Aid kit?"  
"It's in the bathroom," Matthew chuckled to himself, "where it always is, eh?"  
"Great. Thanks there, bro."  
Scowling, Alfred pivoted on his one, good, not-throbbing heel, the action putting a grin on his face. He left his arm still outstretched, from leaning against the door. Turning, Alfred accidentally hit the back of his brother's head, sending the bridge of his nose straight into the wall, followed by his forehead. Matthew, disoriented, dropped the bag, falling face-first onto the stairs, sliding down, his head hitting each of the landings.  
Once that mess stopped happening, Alfred looked at his brother, previously completely silent from the shock of hitting something unexpectedly, and said, "Ow.... Wow."  
At the bottom of the small flight of stairs, Matthew mumbled.  
"Maple," he breathed, "leeeeaaaaffff."


	2. Chapter 1: It Goes Down

Alfred ran to the bathroom, jumping over random, unnecessary obstacles just to make himself feel cool. He returned with his brother's First-Aid kit and saw some blood on the snow.  
"Yeesh."  
Matthew knew not to breathe in the snow, or breathe in the blood, so Alfred could see his brother lying, face to the side, but otherwise unchanged from the position he had left his brother in when he fell.  
He stuffed the first aid kit between his chin and collarbone, rubbing against the candycane-striped scarf at his neck. Alfred tried to slide down using the ice on the handrails on either side of himself, but his hands couldn't handle the awkward strain, between sliding down and one still trying to wake up after having fallen asleep from Alfred leaning on it beforehand.  
Alfred slipped and fell, leaving the First-Aid kit to hit Matthew's head. Alfred landed on his feet, though on Matthew's leg at first, and back. He walked over his brother, reaching the ground beside him via the upper back. Alfred picked up the kit quickly, and hastily grabbed the first thing he felt and poured it in his brother's face.  
Matthew let out a cry of pain and fear as Alfred realized that he had just poured maple syrup on Matthew like he was a breakfast pancake.  
"Sorry!" Alfred laughed.  
"I don't really think this is all that funny, actually, Alfred. I mean, it," he paused to huff out some blood from his nose, kinda hurts, a little bit."  
"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that."  
"It's okayyyyyyyy," said Matthew dismissively. The entire time, he shut his eyes, making sure not to let too much maple syrup into his eyes.  
"Just get me inside again, eh?"  
Alfred propped Matthew up, his hands under his brother's shoulders.  
"Make sure to lean back when you're carrying me up, if you're going backwards.  
Alfred stood at the base of the stairs, swung Matthew back, away from the door, and threw him into the doorway, where Matthew picked a deity and prayed.


	3. Chapter 2: "Seeing Double"/Forgive Me

Matthew landed and rolled over to his side, and realized once he finally partially opened his eyes, that his blood had made a bit of a mess on his clothes and on the old carpeting.  
So much for a manifesto, eh?  
He rolled over to the other side and saw a pair of dark sunglasses. He recognized them as an old gift. Too much light reflecting off of white, pristine snow (oh, maple, not the yellow snow) is bad for the eyes, isn't it?  
He reached out with the free arm, the left, which wasn't trapped under his body after rolling over. He brought it closer, and replaced the sports glasses that he had placed for today, knowing Alfred was coming over. When he did so, through the thick maple syrup still clinging desperately to his blond eyelashes, gluing them to each other, he could see the stand off which it had fallen, even though it was slightly blurrier.  
"Sorry, dude, I just gotta hold onto the railings! Can't end up like you, am I right?"  
"You," Matthew fumed, "are totally entitled to feel safe when going up the stairs. It's okay. Just please don't do it again. Sorry for making you go up and down the steps when they were still icy and dangerous."  
Yeah. Honestly, a great manifesto.  
Matthew rolled again, onto his back once more. He decided to be polite and open his eyes again in order to make eye contact. He was sure he would find Alfred standing in the doorway with an apologetic smile, finding the humor in the situation and only somewhat realizing his brother's actual situation.  
Instead, he saw a harrowing figure, with scars and bruises of various ages, and a wide smile coupled with a soul-piercing but untroubled look in shockingly vibrant eyes he'd never seen before. In pain, Matthew jumped upright, sitting on the carpet, his weight on his shoulders, arms behind him. His heart was suddenly lodged in his throat, as took in a sharp breath of air.  
"What?" the word slipped past Matthew's defense system, even as he was afraid of the dark haired being that stood tall and unashamed before him, tall, figured, and standing in the doorway.  
Matthew cringed as the crazy-eyed snake spat out the words, "Whaddo you mean," he snarled and raised his dark brown eyebrows "'What.'"  
It wasn't a question, and it sounded to Matthew much less like a sincere inquiry and much more like a feral wolf asserting dominance through aggression.  
Matthew looked then at the doorframe, and realized that the paint was chipped far too thoroughly and in far too many different places than what it should have been, considering he had it repainted with the door replacement, and the only damage that had come to it as yet came from Alfred's recent stumble.


	4. Chapter 3: What's Going On. Help.

The apparition appeared to Matthew like some sort of demon. Matthew suddenly feared for his brother, and could only watch, paralyzed with fear. Matthew watched as the demon grasped at a dark, stained bat, and he couldn’t tell whether if it was blood or rust that stained the crooked nails. The silver spikes hit the wall and Matthew could see and hear the paint rip off – which the figure in the doorway, now slinking inside, prolonged with a smug smile, seeing Matthew’s horrified look.  
With a smile, “What are you gonna do?”  
This figure did not mess around, did not ask any questions. Fearing for both himself and his brother now, as the dark-haired character quickened his pace, Matthew ripped off the sunglasses and replaced them with his usual glasses, which he realized he had been clutching much more tightly than before. He wanted to get a close look at least at the person who did him in. As the dark figure approached, now within two feet of Matthew’s legs, Matthew realized with an audible shock how similar he looked in features to his brother.  
Matthew could feel the rush of air indicative of the bat being raised, though saw the mischievous smile evaporate instantly when they met gazes. The figure dropped the stabbed bat, fell, crouching down until he was face-to-face with the person he previously thought was his own brother, falling back to lean on his ankles, eye-to-eye with the timid intruder.  
Leaning in, the dark character whispered, turning his head slightly away, “Matt?”  
With more urgency, “What did you do?”  
Matthew suddenly felt more afraid than before this man had dropped the bat. He felt his palms sweaty against the soft carpet. He shifted his weight, sitting cross-legged now.  
“You look so much like him.”  
Matthew’s face grew warm, as he responded, “Look so much like... who?”  
“Oh.” Apparently, he hadn’t thought the person sitting in front of him was sharing his position, not knowing who was before him. “Matt. So much like him.”  
“Yeah?” Matthew thought aloud. He didn’t forget what had just happened, but curiosity seemed to have flipped off the bloodlust switch.  
“Do you recognize me?” the stranger looked intrigued, a smile curling onto his face. Eyebrows lowered, a mischievous grin.  
“Well, you look a lot like my,” Matthew started. The man in front of him finished with him, “brother.”  
He continued, not missing a beat, “Yeah, I figured as much.” He laughed. Matthew realized that, though they had the same face, and a similar laugh, there was some sort of strange vibe all about him.  
“Do you have any idea as to what just happened?” Matthew had to ask. Suddenly, he had another idea. “What were you doing before this, by the way?”  
“Not much. Just expertly fucking clocked Matt.”  
Matthew watched as a grin seeped onto his face, without a single batting of the eyelashes, without a single element of pity in dark red eyes, “Got ‘im right from behind, so ‘e wasn’t too suspect of anything. Ha – ‘n’ ‘e just started bleeding, like, fuckin’ everywhere. The shit got on the snow ‘n’ it looked all poetic ‘nd shit.”  
All the while, Matthew felt entranced. What could possibly have happened, and why did this apparition suddenly seem so cruel, and where was the closest object he could grab to try and defend himself and where could he go and how could he outrun this guy, and who was this guy, really, and how could he get past him, through the door, and how could he ever get free from this strange situation, and he knew this man was talking to him, but what was he talking about, and he really couldn’t here or focus or really pay attention very well with all these thoughts running through his head; oh, okay, so there was something about blood, oh gosh, and was he really still talking, this guy would not shut up, and oh, right, blood, and why was he talking about that, oh gosh and he’s really cursing, too, and look, his mouth just stopped moving, what did he just say?  
He snapped out of it, realizing he had a guest to deal with.  
The stranger spoke first, “So who are you, anyway? What’s your name?”  
“Oh. Right. I’m Matthew.”  
“Yeah? Alright. I’ll buy it. So how’d you get here anyway? I mean, i’ was either you or me, ‘n’ if i’ was me, it’d be everything else, too. So the hell were you up to, anyway, ah?”  
“I think I got hit in the head, and then I fell to the bottom of the stairs. And then I got hit and stepped on again, I don’t think in that order. And after that, I think I got thrown or something. I think Alfred didn’t want to try and give me any medical assistance out there in the snow. I bet he was probably afraid of slipping on the ice. I mean, I had already put salt on most of the steps, and if he was careful, he totally could have just lifted me up and carried me to the couch in the front room, but he just –,”  
“I call bullshit.”


	5. Chapter Four: In Which a Field Trip Occurs

“What do you –,”   
“How they fuck ‘m I supposed to believe that shit? Look, if you just don’t want to tell me the story, then   
don’t, -,”   
“But it’s true!”   
“-but don’t just make up a dumb othe-POV thing to my own story.”He didn’t even realize Matthew was   
talking.   
“But I forgot to listen to your story, actually. I was too scared to -,”   
“To what? To have a functioning brain? Loo, you don’t seem like a fuckin’ moron, but ‘ey, I might be   
biased ‘cause I know Matt. So point is? Tell me what act’ally ‘apppened before I teach you what Matt   
fel-,”   
“Then explain the blood.”   
For the first time, Matthew stood his ground. The fear in his eyes was less intense than they were before,   
as the stranger could see.   
Looking once more at the facts, he grew visibly angrier, until saying to Matthew, “Fine. So that checks   
out.” He continued with his interrogation, “So how’d you get ‘ere anyway, and how’d you whisk Matt   
away, and when?”   
He actually seems less aggressive than before, eh? But why? It’s like just now he wants to my side of the   
story. But I have no idea what really happened.   
“I guess I can agree that I’m probably a part of whatever made us, I guess, switch, but I have to say, I’m   
not too comfortable working with someone whose name I don’t even know. So if maybe, you don’t   
mind too terribly, what’s your, um, name..., sir -,”   
“I’m, well, jus’ call me Al.”   
“Yeah? What’s that short for?”   
“Bitch, just call me Al.”   
He got up, grabbed the bat, and turned around, confidently starting towards the door. He took keys out  
of his pocket.   
“Come on.” Matthew looked about himself. He took his sunglasses, and felt his pocket to check if the wallet was still   
there. He put the sunglasses on the top of his head and walked over to Al.   
“We’re taking my bike.”


End file.
